


Of games and stars

by jimmriarty



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M, Potterlock, Potterverse, Ravenclaw!Jim, Ravenclaw!Sherlock, i just love potterlock sheriarty so much
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-12
Updated: 2014-08-12
Packaged: 2018-02-12 22:07:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2126310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jimmriarty/pseuds/jimmriarty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim and Sherlock are ravenclaws who are rivals in class. Jim usually is a step ahead of Sherlock, and Sherlock gets really frustrated, but when Sherlock notices that Jim is always alone he awkwardly offers to take him out on a date.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of games and stars

Sherlock doesn’t know when it began. 

Maybe it was after their first Charm class, when Jim Moriarty learned how to use Wingardium Leviosa before he did. He can still remember the big classroom – the three rows of desk facing the teacher’s table and the two windows beneath it– and the excited murmurs of first year students, impatient to use their wands for the first time. Sherlock shared their enthusiasm, even if he tried to hide it behind a facade of indifference. 

Jim was sitting in the row ahead him, black short hair and a tailored uniform that fitted perfectly. His feather was the first one to soar lazily in the air. Instead of looking at the professor who was praising him, Jim turned to Sherlock. That day there was a smug smile on his lips and his dark eyes shined with amusement.

Sherlock felt both annoyed and excited.

 

 

He doesn’t really know why he was thinking of that day. They are in fifth year now, even if little has changed between them. 

Sherlock taps his fingers on the wood of the desk, waiting for the teacher to hand him his marked essay. When he finally reads the score, he hisses under his breath and turns rapidly to stare at Jim, sitting behind him.

“What have you got?”

“I’ve won again, haven’t I?” Jim asks, lips open in a smile more amused than mocking. 

“Just answer.”

“The highest mark, of course.”

Sherlock stays silent. He has lost only for one point. He feels like he’s the eleven years old child again, disappointed to not be the first one to learn a new spell. 

“It wasn’t a real test anyway, all that matter are the O.W.L.s”

But it still burns.

 

 

The entrance to the Ravenclaw common room is a black door, a sea of shiny ink without any doorknob or keyhole. It opens only if you can solve a riddle that is different every time. Sherlock loves it. You don’t have to learn a word and repeat it without thinking, if you want to go to your dorm, you have to actually use your brain. It’s stimulating. People don’t use their brain enough. 

The room itself is beautiful. It’s wide and circular, full of books, with arched windows, blue and bronze silks, a midnight blue carpet and a ceiling painted with stars. Even if Sherlock’s least favourite subject is Astronomy, he appreciate it. 

He spends almost all his free time in there, just sitting in a chair and thinking. John Watson – a gryffindor and Sherlock’s best friend – complains about it all the time, saying that they don’t spend enough time together like normal friends do, but Sherlock doesn’t care. He enjoys John’s company, but sometimes he says things that are so stupid that Sherlock just wants to be alone and stop listening. He doesn’t dislike him, but being with him all the time is frustrating. John just isn’t enough. It’s not his fault, though.

Jim doesn’t seem to have friends. He is always there, sitting on the floor with his legs crossed and an astronomy book that is far too complicated for their age in his hands. Always alone. 

Sherlock likes to observe him. Jim isn’t static: his eyebrows frown when he reads a line that is particularly difficult and he smiles slightly when he finds a subject fascinating. Sometimes he murmurs something to himself and, in those moments, Sherlock would like to sit near him to hear what he’s saying, even if the subject doesn’t interest him at all.

 

 

When he walks to Jim for the first time, Sherlock wants to invite him to spend time with him, John and Molly the next day.

“Hey.” He says, looking down at the boy sitting on the floor.

“Mhn?”

Jim lifts his gaze and blinks twice, surprised. They never talk outside their competition. It’s like a non-written rule, except for the fact their game doesn’t really have any rules – it’s funnier that way.

“Do you want to…” He stops, leaving the sentence to flow incomplete in the air. He doesn’t want to invite him anymore. The thought of Jim talking to John and Molly now leaves an unpleasant taste on his lips and Sherlock frowns, thinking that no, he’s not willing to share him or their little game. He wants Jim all for himself.

“To…?” Jim’s soft voice brings him back to reality. He’s looking at him, head slightly lifted and dark eyes full of expectation. 

“Umh…” Sherlock lowers his gaze, meeting the astronomy book that is now lying on the floor. “Go to the Astronomy Tower with me? Now?”

For a moment, Jim freezes and Sherlock smiles, full of pride. It’s always nice to surprise the Irish boy. 

“Is this a date, Sherlock Holmes?” He asks, eyes wide and a flirtatious smile on his lips. For some reason, the way Jim looks at him makes his ears red and hot. 

A date. Dates are boring, dull and ordinary, but the thought of going out for a date with Jim isn’t unpleasing, quite the opposite. It wouldn’t be an ordinary date, with a lot of kissing and holding hands. It would be different. 

Sherlock nods, ears still on fire. 

“Yes, if you want to.” 

“Mhn, I would love to, but there is a class this night…” Jim purrs, without sounding really disappointed or annoyed.

“I don’t see any problem. We have thirty minutes to sneak in.” Sherlock grins. “They are enough.”

For the first time in years, Jim laughs. 

 

 

“Hurry up, we don’t have a lot of time! Look in the telescope and give me your hand.” 

“What? Why?”

“Don’t ask stupid questions. Just do it!”

“Alright.” Sherlock snorts, doing what he’s told.

Jim’s fingers are delicate and soft against the palm of his hand. He draws invisibles lines on his skin, painting figures and constellations so accurately that that Sherlock cannot help but wonder how many times Jim has traced those same lines on the paper. 

Sherlock watches the stars, moving his gaze to match Jim’s movements. Their precision is almost surgical.

“You see them, don’t you?” Jim asks, voice softer than his touches. He doesn’t wait for a reply and starts talking again, telling the stories and legends behind each name. There is Andromeda, Cassiopea, Orion, Perseus, Ursa Major and Minor, and the zodiac constellations. 

And then there is nothing, because Jim’s fingertips touch a point that make Sherlock laugh out loud.

“Don’t laugh while I’m talking to you!” Jim says, putting on what – judging from his tone – looks like a pout. 

“But it tickl-”

“Wait!” Jim interrupts him, still holding his hand. “I’ve heard something. Time to go!” 

 

 

They run to the common room holding each other hands, two sixteen years old boy who think that no one could ever stop or catch them.

“Guess I will have to teach you all the night” Jim says, panting. “Your grades in Astronomy are awful and it will take a lot without a telescope.”  
“It’s okay, I don’t usually sleep anyway.”


End file.
